


a passing noise in the night

by 月氣 (TheUmbraphage)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ...yet (if I continue this), Cat Tom Riddle, Crack, Drabble, Gen, Prompt Fic, Read the notes there isnt anything ship-related in actual writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUmbraphage/pseuds/%E6%9C%88%E6%B0%A3
Summary: Magic is a very fickle thing, and when you're stupid enough to make seven horcuxes, you accidentally end up with nine. Tom should have thought this through better the first time around.orTom the horcrux's beginning to his adventures as Trashbag the Ex-Potter Cat.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Kudos: 12





	a passing noise in the night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most random, shortest thing I've ever written compared to my usual 4k+ chapters in my other fic's. Will I continue this? Probably not since its been sitting in my folders since August, but if anyone wants to give this a spin, go for it.
> 
> The original plan was for Tom to spend 16 years as a cat until he figures out a reverse Animagi transformation and embarks on his journey to give his rise to power a reboot through chronomancy and timeline shenanigans to steal his other horcruxes from other versions of himself and fix his soul somewhat, until Albus and Scorpius throws a wrench into his plans and adopts this poor cat in the middle of winter. Could end up as Tomarry with Tom as the unexpected stepdad, but could be taken in any direction, really. I just haven't gotten around to actually writing this bc of my other projects.

Horcruxes are intrinsically dark, a sickening, complicated means to objectify the human experience. Immortality and pursuit of it are nothing but a materialistic notion, that time and the concept of being able to outlast it are nothing more than limitless money, limitless power… What, then, defines power? Is it coercing the strings of Fate in your favor, tipping the balance slime itself would bend to your will? Or could it be using your limited time to your advantage, calculating every move to ripple through the ages before Fate takes you to the unknown?

To most, the latter would be remarkably easier, while still a rocky road. For one Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., better known as Lord Voldemort, doing magical parkour to avoid human mortality was a simple feat—just do it seven times and he’d be set for life. Indefinitely.

Yet, as straightforward as Horcruxes are in the terms of dark rituals, it is a fickle thing to navigate with ill-placed confidence when no one before him had dared to tread so far as he did.

It wasn’t until Samhain of 1981 that not Lord Voldemort, but the splinter that reduced his soul exponentially not to the seventh, but the eight degree, that Tom realized he fucked up.

After the dark shadowy, oily mass escaped its ashen body through the window with an unearthly shriek, leaving behind two dead bodies and a crying baby in the crib, the black cat that had been cowering under the dresser blinked owlishly at the window, then at the baby, then at the vacant body of Lord Voldemort as it slowly disintegrated, then at the window, then back at the _bloody_ baby—

Oh, this will not do. This will not do at all.

But, what could he do, disoriented and barely understanding a thing through the cat’s bronze orange eyes?

And weak, he was. Fear and horror from his new fluffy counterpart flooded his senses, banishing any sense of logic he could muster, and he bolted, down the stairs, through the living room, and out the broken front door, leaving the baby’s wails to fade in the distance.

And Trashbag the cat would never be seen again, presumed lost during the attack on Godric’s Hollow.


End file.
